


The Street Where We Began

by M3zzaTh3M3z



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M, nine in the afternoon, rebellious Teens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-08-16 09:34:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8097085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/M3zzaTh3M3z/pseuds/M3zzaTh3M3z
Summary: There's an abandoned house Dean likes to hang out in. He's not the only one.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by one of my favourite P!ATD songs - no prizes for guessing which!

It was Dean’s place. Sure, theoretically someone else owned it and sometimes there were signs of other people visiting. Once he’d had to avoid it for a month straight because some squatters had moved in. But, in his mind at least, the end house in the row of abandoned terraces was his.

It was not the sort of place most would to want to claim. Dilapidated, damp, bug infested and rat gnawed, stinking of piss and full of trash. The yellowed wallpaper was peeling and the only furniture left in the house was a disgusting mattress on a bed frame, remaining only because nobody wanted to touch it. The only decorative touch was a clock stuck on nine o’clock. It was not a homely environment, but then again, neither was home.

Growing up, Dean had been scared of the empty houses. When he was young there had been chilling sleepover tales of hauntings and mysterious sightings. When he got a bit older he’d been more cautious of the druggies people claimed were there. Now he knew both stories had been more or less lies. He’d seen a few used needles around but never those who left them. And most of the noises could be explained away. Most.

He didn’t know what had made him go in the first time. All he’d known was he hated everything and it was cold and there was no way in hell he was going home five minutes after storming out just because he didn’t have a coat. His feet took him through the streets until he was at the abandoned house, and then they took him in. It was out of the biting wind and he could think without shouting breaking through his skull, so it was good enough for him. Soon he was going to the house daily, using any excuse to somewhere alone where the walls wouldn’t suffocate him.

 

It was a warm evening so Dean headed to what he thought of as the master bedroom at the top of the house. It had the dingy mattress, but it also had huge bay windows that still opened and closed and looked out onto the twisted garden below, which made it as close to perfect as a dump could be.

Dean scowled when he noticed a new pile of blankets in the far corner. The sons of bitches, thinking they could just wander in whenever they felt like it. He did his best to ignore them as he cracked open the windows. A summer breeze ruffled around the room, chasing away some of the dampness that pervaded the entire building. With the mattress being so dingy the only viable place to sit in the room was the large, only slightly rotten windowsill, so Dean settled himself in comfortably and prepared to let the day evaporate away, but a movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention and he paused.

The blankets in the corner stirred. Dean stared as they fell away to reveal the most beautiful boy he had ever seen pushing himself into a sitting position, rubbing his eyes with one hand.

“Sorry, I didn’t realise anyone else still came here,” the intruder said, stifling a yawn. “I’ll be going now.” He gathered his blanket without concern and stood.

“No, stay,” Dean replied without thinking, then shook his head. He didn’t want to sound threatening to the skinny guy. “I mean, if you want. What are you doing here?”

“I was sleeping.” The boy looked towards the empty frame where the door had once been, but made no move towards it.

“Here?”

“Yes.” Clearly, this was not up for further discussion.

Green met blue for a moment. Then another.

“Cool,” Dean said, and pointed at the other side of the windowsill. “Try sitting up here, it’s much comfier.” If the boy was here for the same reasons as him, he wasn’t going to pry.

After a moment’s hesitation, the dark haired boy took his advice. “Kinda splintery,” he commented, before shrugging off the huge tan trench coat he’d been wrapped him and squashing it underneath him. “Not really the kind of wood I want in my ass. This is better.” He cracked a wide grin when he saw Dean’s expression. “I’m kidding.” From the way his eyes were roaming over Dean, there was a chance he might not be. “Here, you take the blanket. Don’t worry, it’s clean. I’d only been asleep an hour I think. It was like… nine… maybe? When I fell asleep I mean.”

“It’s… seven now…” Dean said, after a brief pause to check his watch and remember how time progresses.

“Huh. Thought it was a bit light. The clock must be broken.”

“It’s always been like that.”

“You come in here a lot?

Dean shrugged. “I guess.”

They both fell silent. What a way to make a good impression – sounding like a creepy loner who hung out in abandoned buildings all the time. So what if it was largely true? Didn’t mean he had to blurt it out to everybody.

The boy fidgeted around for a moment as he dug something out of a pocket and proceeded to roll an immaculate white tube of something Dean doubted was tobacco. He watched, captivated, as the boy casually flicked on a lighter and had taken a few deep drags before wordlessly offering Dean a try.

Unsurprisingly, conversation came a little easier after that.

“I’ll come by again tomorrow afternoon,” Dean promised when it was time for him to go.

“I’m staying here. I won’t know when it’ll be afternoon. It’s just nine o’clock, all the time.”

“You’ll know it’ll be the afternoon because I will have turned up.”

“It’ll still be nine o’clock.”

“Nine in the afternoon. Sounds catchy.”

Dean was almost out the ‘door’ when he realised he’d forgotten to even get a name. “I’m Dean,” he blurted out.

“Castiel. Thought you’d never ask.”

 

Ten years later they stood in the overgrown front yard, looking up at the looming house. “What have we gotten ourselves into?” muttered Dean.”

“Stop whining,” retorted Castiel. “You’re the one who said it would be ‘romantic’ or something.” The edge of his tone was softened by the fact he squeezed Dean’s hand and smiled at the chink of new wedding rings. “Now c’mon. We’ve got a lot of work to do to make this dump habitable.”

“It’s not a dump!” Dean protested, a tad ineffectually as they could see there was no way it had improved at all since they had first met there. “It’s our place.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this fic! I'd really appreciate any comments you might have :)
> 
> If you did enjoy it, I also have works in the Haikyuu, Ace Attorney, Widdershins and My Hero Academia fandoms you may like. 
> 
> You can find writing tips and read about my published romance novella "A Grey Valentine's" on my blog: https://conwaywrites.wordpress.com


End file.
